Page 78 of The Wolf King

Robert turns away and re-joins the conversation the other men are now having about Blake.

“Does Blake even like the lasses?”

“I think so. I’ve heard some screams coming from his room late at night.”

“Aye, but they’re not the good kind.”

“I’ve heard he has some dark tastes... Never wanted to ask.”

I turn back to Callum. “Would you really kill him for me?” I ask.

“Aye. I hope you don’t ask. Because it could cause me some serious problems when the king returns.”

I smile as I go back to my porridge.

I’m less amused when Robert looms over our table twenty minutes later.

“I said you could keep her if she earned her keep,” he says. He walks off before Callum can respond.

“I could get a job in the infirmary,” I say. I don’t want to do anything to appease that horrible wolf, but I must admit, I’m curious. I wonder what I could learn about healing and Wolves if I had the opportunity to do so. “I don’t mind. I have nothing else to do while we wait for your king to return, so I may as well make myself useful.”

Callum’s eyebrows raise, then he shakes his head. “No. I appreciate what you did for Ryan, but I don’t want you alone with Blake.” He gives me an assessing look. “If you truly want a way to pass the time, I may have an idea.”

“What is it?”

“Our cook, Mrs. McDonald, is always complaining that she needs help peeling potatoes in the kitchens.”

***

The past week, a restless energy has been growing within the castle. The Wolves are angry about the attack against Ryan, but there’s more to it than that. It feels like the days before a big storm where the air is close and humid.

It feels like something big is about to happen.

I see less of Callum during the week than I did in my first few days here. It is partially because I’m spending my time in the kitchens.

When I first arrived here, someone made a comment about the cook, Mrs. McDonald, being like a dragon, and they were not wrong. She is truly a formidable woman—with greying hair and a sharp tongue. She is constantly shouting at me.

Her hatred doesn’t come from the fact that I am human; rather that I am incompetent in the kitchen. I have no idea how to make a stew, I burn the bread, and I’m constantly knocking things over.

I have never had to do these things before. People always served me my meals, so it’s no wonder I’m useless. I have a feeling that even if Mrs. McDonald knew I was a princess, she would not sympathize.

I don’t like being constantly scolded—for the first few days it was difficult to bite my tongue. But there’s actually something refreshing about someone being unguarded around me—not fearing that I’ll have them executed if they speak to me in a way I do not like.

It makes me feel. . . normal.

The other plus side of being so useless is that after a few days the kitchen maid Kayleigh, who snarled at me for making her drop her potatoes on that first day here, starts to take pity on me—even if she is still cold. She begrudgingly shows me how to dice an onion, and grumpily walks me around the kitchen gardens one day to show me the different herbs.

On the fifth day, when she cuts herself, I offer to take her to the infirmary and she blanches—clearly terrified of the dark-haired wolf who occupies it. I help her clean it so it doesn’t become infected.

After that, she is a lot more pleasant, and even starts to gossip with me.

“What’s Callum like in the sack, then?” she asks one day.

“In the sack?”

“You know, in bed.”

I flush, remembering people are supposed to think I have been intimate with him. “Kayleigh! Can we change the subject, please?”

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